In Port Moresby the natives of Hanuabada and Elevera live chiefly by fishing, canoe-building, and pottery-making. The men do the fishing and canoe-building, whilst the women and children loiter over the pottery-making. There is a complete absence of hurry; all the natives work as if they had a lifetime to complete their job; there is a calmness in them that is only rivalled by the sky over their heads and the air that blows over this island, and perhaps it is from nature they have learnt that calm and stolid indifference to just those things over which we believe it is necessary to hustle.
IN THE PILE DWELLINGS AT HANUABADA, PORT MORESBY, BRITISH NEW GUINEA.
One extremely peculiar trait in the character of the natives of British New Guinea is their dislike to inquisitiveness. You can implore a native to tell you his name, and even offer him coin to pay him for that information, but it has no effect. He {27} will tell you some name, if you press him hard enough, but it won’t be his, as you will discover if you try to find him again. As an instance of this peculiarity, Mr. Norman Hardy was particularly struck by a canoe he saw lying on the sand in the main street of Elevera, and seeing a native standing by, he asked him if the canoe belonged to him, as he would like to buy it. The native smiled blandly and shook his head.
“Don’t you know whose it is?” asked Mr. Hardy.
“Don’t know; man over there, p’r’aps,” said the native.
“What’s his name?” Mr. Hardy pursued.
“No name.” The native shook his bushy head.
“Well, show me which is the hut he lives in.”
At this question the man began to fidget, and then, glancing carelessly at the row of huts, all as like each other as peas, he swept his hand past the whole lot and said: